The Path Of My Life
by woofyy
Summary: on hiatus to get close to someone isn't always the best option because you don't know their past. You'll never know if they would get you when your back is turned. ExT AU&OOC by FW. 2006 i do not own CCS.
1. the nightmare premonition

**The Path of My Life**

**Chapter One**

Life. It has its ups and downs. Sometimes, when it falls you will feel like life is a senseless path. A path which you do not know how to follow. When you look down your path, what do you see? Patches of beautiful flowers filled with light, or burnt debris within darkness? When you listen, do you hear an enchanted melody, or a sorrowful cry? When you try to reach for something mysterious and wonderful, along your path, does it fades away from you or is it so close that it is within your grasp? Throughout your downfall, you see people surrounding you. What do you see in their emotional eyes? Disgust, sadness, pain, sympathy, understanding, confusion, ignorance, or maybe, even pity? Yet, ask yourself, what do you WANT them to see in you? Someone who has the ability to continue on because they are strong and mature, that they can reassure, their cherished ones, that they do not need them to worry about you? Or someone who is confused and lost, someone who needs someone by their side and to reassure THEM that everything is okay, that they are not alone any more and that a rainbow will appear after a rainstorm? And what about your accomplishments? Do you want them to see you, to acknowledge you and to know that you are there? And be proud to know and have someone like you? Alternatively, are you going to be modest and say what you have accomplished, what you believe, was something minor? That you are nothing but a nobody? Do you know who you are? Your own path, do you have a destination or do you just wonder along an unknown path and just allow it to lead you to your destination, maybe even your demise? And when you look at yourself in the mirror, what do you see? What do you WANT to see? Do you see insecurity in yourself, or do you see confidence? And, the person you are now, are you proud of whom you are or do you wish to be someone completely different in which, you believe, will be acknowledge more than who you are now? Finally, do you believe you are on the right path?

I was having lunch with a friend of mine. I was telling my problem to him. I told him I could not continue anymore. That I do not know how to live, or what my life purpose is anymore. He looked at me with a genuine smile upon his face. A smile which showed understanding and reassurance. He replied to me, with a small chuckle, that he wanted to tell me a story. He said it was a true story. About something which happened to him not so long ago. So I listened. I wanted to. My friend went by the name Hiiragizawa Eriol. And this was his story.

Darkness. It was all he sees. His nerves were tickling with fear. His muscles tensing unintentionally. His lungs shrunk. Then inflated fiercely. Then it shrunken again. The process never ending. The darkness was suffocating him. Choking him. Sweat dripped down his pale face as his eyes showed trepidation. Abruptly, a pair of hands grabbed his lungs and squeezed it. The overwhelming pain caused him to scream his lungs out. Strangely, he did not hear a sound. Not even a peep. He screamed again, but there was no trace of an existing sound. It was sickly silent for his liking. His heart felt hooked up, and his face turned grotesque as it unhurriedly twist, causing him to suffer a huge amount of agony. He felt wetness, upon his face, as cascading invisible tears made its way down his soft cheeks. Then, it was his flawless skin. Black, piercing claws sunk into his white skin and ripped in. Unfortunately, not in one rapid go. His head felt numb from the increasing pain, but not numb enough to feel his nails getting tore away from him. Unfortunately, that was not the only pain he felt. Limb by limb, it was cut off with a blunt rusty saw, creating unbearable pain for him to endure. He wanted to faint; he wanted the pain to stop. He wanted someone to SAVE him. Yet, he could not stop it. Heck! He could not even move any part of his body. It was as though something was blocking his brain messages to his nerves, but not the pain, from his nerves, sent to his brain as they signaled for mercy. Then, a pair of fork poked into his beautiful, sapphire eyes, and plucked it out. He could not take it any more. He screamed.

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

A young man, possibly in his early twenties, woke up with a scream. Sweat was pouring down his face and body. He was controllably shaking from head to foot while he took shallow breaths. His eyes were blank and his cheeks were no longer pale. If possible, it turned even paler.

'It's that dream again. Why does it keep on happening? Before, it was just occasionally. Now, I have that nightmare every single night. What does it mean?'


	2. a skeptical case

The sound of rushing hot water echoed through the apartment. Bare-naked, Eriol entered his steaming shower; a sigh of satisfaction left his dry lips. He picked up the soap with such gentility and caution, and rubbed its smoothness against his sweaty body. The water whispered soothing symphonies into his ear, while the steams seem to cloud him away from his phobias, massaging his woes away. Gratified from the motion, Eriol leaned his back against the icy wall, allowing the thrilling sensation to run down his spine with contentment. Just has his vigilance dwindled a little, the ring of the phone alarmed him. Cautiously, Eriol turned off the taps. The phone continued to ring. He wrapped the pre-heated towel around his manliness and entered the living room, where his phone was initially located. He slowly walked towards his phone and picked it up, time stood still as he felt the vibration emitting from his mobile. Warily, he flicked open his phone and answered the call.

"E. there's a case here with your name written all over it. We're sited at Hoxtonville Castle. Be here in ten minutes sharp," demanded a mono-tonic voice.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Eriol closed his phone, his face painted with relief on it. He sighed audibly before rushing into his bedroom and changing into a white top, with the top buttons unbuttoned, a black and grey scarf, a pair of black jeans and brown shoes. Before exiting his apartment, he swiftly grabbed his keys and a grey winter coat.

. . . . .

The click of Eriol's car echoed into the empty car park. Within a couple of seconds, the green Jeep roared down the shrinking, dark road. Eriol turned the radio on. Without any hope of finding a favorable station, he turned the radio off. As he continued his drive through the swallowing darkness, flashbacks of his nightmare irregularly appeared in his disturbed mind. His mind began to swirl, his vision becoming obscure. The ticking of his car clock became distinctive, as though it was ticking right next to him. In him.

**HONK! HONK!**

The sounds of angry cars slapped Eriol back to reality. He ran into an intersection while the lights were red, which caused the opposing cars to growl in annoyance. Waving apologetically to the other cars, Eriol made his way to the other side before further mishaps could ensue.

Within a couple of minutes, Eriol arrived at his destination: Hoxtonville Castle. The sight of the ruins sent shivers down his spine, yet Eriol took a step forward. Then another, and another. His mind was sending him red alerts, warning him about the dangers lurking in the debris. However, Eriol continued, brushing off his immature thoughts, not realizing how imperative these thoughts would be in the future. The castle's walls were filled with moss and bacteria, with rotting rodents around the edges. The walls were damaged from missing bricks to scars of historic battles, gradually losing the taste of definite royalty. The roof tiles were erratically dying to the ground while the windows were painted with a new look via the accumulating dust, implying on the antiqueness of the castle. The castle itself was a lost cause, losing its respect of continuous protection and fixed obedience. Eriol felt sympathetic towards the castle. After all those years of unremitting defense and fortification, even though the building was begging for recognition and appreciation, citizens of this town seemed to have lacked the acknowledgement of its significance. Eriol looked up to the highest tower, in admiration of its stability, when something caught his eye. A shadow, he presumed, but it left as quickly as it came, causing Eriol to guess the possibility of seeing it in the first place. After all, the castle had not been inhabited in thousands of years. Alternatively, being employed in his line of jobs, one shouldn't doubt their own instincts. Brushing the idea aside, Eriol turned right, entering one of the many gardens of the castle and into a crime scene, where the scene was preoccupied by a number of policemen. Eriol searched the area in hope of finding a chubby, short man whose hair was graying in age. His searched ended when he saw the man walking towards him with a solemn expression on his facial features.

"Detective Eriol Hiiragizawa, you're finally here. On time, as always. Good," commented the short, chubby man.

"How could I not, you said to be here in ten minutes sharp, Chief Gordon Clerk," replied Eriol with a smug smile playing on his lips. "I dare not contravene your orders. As I recall the last time, it was not a pretty sight to behold."

"Good that you understand me, Detective E. You know me too well," replied Chief Gordon. "Let's get down to business. The victim was an eighteen year old teenager, her name is Jennifer Crimson. We've interviewed her friends. They said that it was a dare to celebrate her nineteenth birthday. However, before she even turned that age, she was found dead here, at 9:37 PM tonight, in the gardens of Hoxtonville Abbey. It was a couple that found the dead body. They were walking by the castle, to get to the hill on the other side, when they noticed that the soil was slightly denser when it hadn't rained in weeks. They walked a bit further and found the body. Her friends were getting worried so they headed towards the castle until they bumped into the couple and realized what had happened. They called for the police afterwards. The forensics figured that her time of death was 5:29 PM yesterday afternoon. So far, there's no trace of foot prints, fingerprints or any sort of D.N.A. What do you think?"

The detective replayed the information over his head again, analyzing every single detail that was given to him. The Chief police looked at the detective expectantly, as though the detective would suddenly say 'eureka!' and solve another case. It wouldn't surprise him for it wouldn't be the first time that this situation had occurred. One of the forensics called the Chief over. Eriol glanced at the Chief while he listened to the forensic. The Chief's face seemed to not make up its mind for his expressions kept on changing from serious to confused, to shock, to annoy. When the Chief came back, Eriol queried about the situation. The Chief explained what the forensic had told him. It was believed that the reason behind the girl's death was caused by internal bleeding. So far, they had not found the cause of the internal bleeding.

"Is that so?" questioned Eriol. His instincts were telling him that there was more than meets the eye. "It's not that big of an issue to get all worked up about. We're seen worse cases than this. Or is there something you're not telling me?"

The Chief hesitated, and then he gave an audible sigh. As he closed his eyes, his eyes furrowed as though he was contemplating deep about an issue. After a couple minutes, he opened his eyes again. He gave Eriol a grave look. "The forensics believed that the heart was missing from the girl. There was no evidence that the heart is still within that body."

"Your point, Chief?" Eriol was honestly clueless as to where this was heading to.

"It is quite unprofessional of me to say this but there had been a legend around this town. It was said that hundreds of years ago, the Prince of this castle fell in love with a peasant, but she was already in love with a farmer on the other side of town. So, on the night of their wedding, the girl ran away with the farmer into the mountains. Jealousy got the best of the Prince. He ordered his soldiers to hunt them down and bring them back to him. Unfortunately, in the end the couple were captured and brought back to the castle, to the Prince. In front of the farmer, while the girl was still alive, the Prince cut out the girl's heart out and hid it somewhere. The Prince was a twisted person. Not only did he take her heart out, after she died due to internal bleeding, he tortured her body in the most despicable ways. They tore her limbs apart, skinned her, and finally, plucked her eyes out. Shocked from the tragedy of their love, the farmer died from a heart attack; he couldn't bear the pain any longer. Not long after the incident, the Prince died from a mysterious death. It was said that it was the work of the farmer, avenging for his love, also in hope of finding her heart again. They said that the farmer's still searching for the heart of his beloved woman, cornering any female that resembled her in his eyes."

Eriol had a skeptical look on his face, not believing what the Chief had told him. A professional policeman, that based his verdicts and statements on solid proof, was telling him of a century year old urban myth that was haunting the silent streets of this town. Unbelievable. Just plain unbelievable. In his mind, he was resolute that there were no such things as haunting, mysterious mishaps or supernatural phenomenon. And, in his mind, there were no such things as avenging ghosts.

However, the description of the victimized girl's unsightly death, from the myth, did not go unnoticed to the detective's contemplations. _They tore her limbs apart, skinned her, and finally, plucked her eyes out. _It appeared all too familiar to him. May be a bit too familiar. Flashbacks of his unnerving dream materialized in his mind. Just the thought of it made the detective unconsciously shiver.

"Chief, don't tell me you actually believe such things exist, do you?" queried Eriol, uncertain to what he was expecting. Maybe a resolute no from the Chief, just to feel secure that the world's most intellectual and wise policeman had not become as gullible as to believe such myths. Or maybe he, himself, did not want to think that his intelligence and competence was becoming vulnerable all because of the coincidence between the two issues. The chief displayed a frown on his firm facial features. He gave an audible cough before answering the dubious detective, quite aware of his ambiguous behaviour behind his questions. After all, if Eriol was not being suspicious the chief, himself, would be the one worrying instead.

"I know it sounds quite irrational however, to unveil the ulterior motive one need to start from the beginning. And sometimes, the beginning is a groundless rumor," replied the chief. His voice held confidence, while his speech contained conviction, causing Eriol to undergo a taste of guilt for his questioning.

"Okay, I see your point. Skeptical, but I see your point. I'll head to the headquarters and start on the investigation, but I highly doubt I'll be able to find any information about it." With that final remark, Eriol left the scene. Chief Gordon watched his retreating back, a knowing smile playing on his face, before returning to his investigation. To him, the detective may be a masterpiece of enigmas. He always would be. But after working years with him, Gordon believed he knew him well enough to trust him to solve any case, no matter how absurd it was. He wasn't wrong.


	3. detective E, meet Tomoyo Daidouji

The clicking of keys ricocheted continuously into the thick atmosphere. Web pages flashed before his eyes as he searched for genuine information about the legendary myth. He allowed himself to temporarily rest as his eyes and back began to ache. He headed off to the lunch room, where the aroma of coffee suddenly fascinated him. Colleagues offered to make the coffee for him; his philosophy and pride prevented him from accepting the offer. Within a couple of minutes, he managed to formulate a cup of latte for himself. As the warm concoction touched his soft lips, and down his throat, he felt a rush of refreshment and warmth throughout his whole body. Satisfied, he gave an audible sigh, before continuing his drink, until the very last drop diminished from the cup.

Feeling revived, he headed back to his desk and continued his research. After a couple more minutes, a link caught his eye. There was nothing eccentric about the title however; it was the summary that intrigued him.

'_Many believed it to be just a myth, but numerous of unexplainable mishaps occurred throughout the century that no one seemed to elucidate why. A groundless statement or an incredulous anecdote? Everything is not all it seems to be, not everything can be explained _logically_. Here's a site giving both the negative and positive aspects of this myth.'_

A website questioning logic was what that had caught his attention. Curious in what the individual had to say, he double clicked the site and began reading. As he continued reading, the more captivated he was with the site, and the more intrigued with the writer's perspective on this matter. It was not until his colleagues bid goodbye to him did he realized how late it already was. Indifferent to the time, he continued reading. When he finally finished reading, he glanced at the clock, it read one o'clock. Yawning, he forced his drowsy eyes onto the screen again. This time, he searched for the author of the site. He decided to pay the author a visit later in the afternoon. Tomoyo Daidouji. Eriol assumed that she was the author of the site. He scribbled the address down on, a piece of paper, before grabbing his coat and scarf. He switched off the lights and closed the door with a bang. The noise resonated into the tranquility of the office.

. . . . .

**KNOCK. KNOCK.**

A flushed woman, in her early twenties, quickly dressed herself in a sky blue top, a pair of ripped jeans and thongs and ran towards the door. She opened the door slightly and peered outside, with her amethyst eyes, and was greeted with a young, casual dressed man. The man gave her a smile. The young woman was uncertain if he was being genuine since his eyes were shaded with a pair of Calvin Klein sunglasses. Cautious, she asked the man want he wanted. His was one word: you. Shocked, she unconsciously stepped backwards, providing the stranger and opportunity to allow himself into the house. Unlike his apartment, her house was quite messy. Unwashed clothes were scattered everywhere, while finished meals were left unclean in the dirty sink. Opened books were laid on a coffee table and a laptop was left open, with an ongoing document displayed on the desktop. When the woman finally came to her senses, the man was already entering the corridor of her house. Alert of the possible dangers she might encounter with this stranger, she quickly grabbed her mobile and dialed triple zero. She was so intent with the dial that she didn't realized he was right behind, until he grabbed her mobile away.

"Hello, this is the police station, what is the problem?" a woman's voice finally answered the phone.

"Nothing's the matter, sorry to bother you. I just pressed the wrong number," answered the stranger fluently. After another apology and a warning, the other person on the line cut off.

"Are you the farmer?" Trepidation evident in her shaky voice. The man laughed heartily. There was no doubt that this woman was Tomoyo Daidouji, but he had to ask to make sure.

"Tomoyo Daidouji, I assume?" queried the stranger. Nodding, Tomoyo cautiously walked backwards, towards her couch. "Just because I have black hair, purple eyes and have three distinctive dots on the bottom left side of my back it doesn't mean I resemble her! I know I'm the descendent of her mother's sister's husband's younger sister; I have no relations to your lover! Don't take my heart out, I still want to live! I still have a dog to look after, and a mother to visit! I'm not married; I'm too young to die! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

With an ear piercing shriek, Tomoyo crouched down with her hands on her head and began weeping. The man just stood there. He was still trying to compute what had just happened. A woman, he just came to visit, just begged for mercy and told him a number of her personal matters. He did not have a clue as to how to react in a situation like this. Finally comprehending the situation, he pulled Tomoyo up and took of his sunglasses, revealing his radiant sapphire eyes. Smiling, he introduced himself. He briefly explained his reason of being there and that when he said that he wanted her, he meant he wanted some help from her. Reassured, Tomoyo slumped on the couch and began laughing.

"So you think the issue's just a stupid myth?" asked Tomoyo. Eriol replied with a hesitant nod. He was beginning to regret coming here in the first place. The woman in front of him was the complete opposite of how he imagined who Tomoyo Daidouji would be. Her behaviour, so far, had been foolish and obtuse. Her voice disturbed his train of thoughts when she spoke again. "You've got a lot to learn about perception, detective E, a LOT."

Now he definitely regretted coming here.


End file.
